


A night to forget

by Myriath



Series: Finding Home [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alexios/Thaletas - Former, Angst, Broken Heart, Emotional Hurt, F/M, How Kyra & Thaletas decided to stay together, Hurt, Mykonos, Sad, What happened after the beach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:46:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27214390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myriath/pseuds/Myriath
Summary: What happened after Thaletas left the beach?After he had left Alexios alone?This story is about the events of “A Night to Remember”. It clarifies the question why Thaletas suddenly decided to stay with Kyra after he had dreamed of a future with Alexios just moments before. And how the night went on for the ‘happy couple’.Thaletas’ POV.(I marked this as part of the series because I've written it in a way that it fits there, but it is also a standalone. So you don't have to read my series to read this.)
Relationships: Kyra/Thaletas (Assassin's Creed)
Series: Finding Home [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903528
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	A night to forget

Thaletas had to go to his men. He had to be seen, had to celebrate with them. After everything they’d achieved on these islands, he’d been promoted to general and it was his duty to be with his men, even though he didn’t want to.  
The sound of the sea behind him was dull, barely noticeable, and yet he was so close to it, he should hear it. The sound of the waves, how they broke at the shore. Usually, it was something that calmed him. This evening the sound just hurt; and since when did the salty air taste bitter?  
He stopped. Only some stairs separated him from the laughter of his men. Thaletas closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  
“Smile,” he said to himself, “You have won these islands. You have a reason to smile.”  
He tried and managed to pull up the corners of his mouth. It felt wrong. The pain in his chest got worse and for a short moment, he thought he might throw up. Instead, he straightened and rolled his shoulders back. Then he walked towards the celebration. Slowly.   
Before he even reached the building, he was approached by some of his men. They were laughing, slapping his shoulders, and saying things to him which he barely heard. Praise? He didn’t know.   
Somehow a cup of watered wine found its way into his hands. He took a sip. Too weak. He felt like he needed something stronger, something that would make him forget this evening and maybe even the last weeks; but he was a general now, he couldn’t get drunk, not in front of his men… though perhaps tonight he could; perhaps tonight they would understand. They’d won the islands, and if that wasn’t a reason to celebrate and get drunk, what was? But he didn’t feel like they’d won. The land, yes, maybe; but the price he’d had to pay was much higher than he would have thought.  
As if the storm that fought in his heart wasn’t enough, another storm found its way to him. A storm in the form of an angry woman, glaring at him as if she wanted him dead. Maybe she did. Maybe he wouldn’t mind dying right now.  
She grabbed his wrist and pulled him with her. Away from the crowd, away from the laughter, the cheering, to a place where they were alone. She stopped and pushed him away from her. His back hit a wall behind him but the pain wasn’t enough. It was too weak. She should have pushed him harder.  
He felt something wet on his hands and he looked down. The wine. He’d spilled it. At least Spartans wore red, so no one would see it. Practical for bloodshed and celebration. A sound of laughter reached his ears and it took him a moment to realize that it was him who was laughing. Then the laughter died on his lips.  
He looked up from the wine at the woman with crossed arms who was glaring at him. She was angrier than he’d ever seen her.  
“When did you plan to tell me?” she asked. Her voice was stern; it lacked the warmth he liked about it. She didn’t laugh but she should. They’d won, her people were free, but instead, she looked sad, hurt.  
She frowned when he didn’t respond. “I deserve an answer, Thaletas,” she said.   
He knew she was right. She did deserve answers, many answers. Though he knew what she wanted, he still asked, “Tell you what?”   
Kyra untangled her arms and drove her hand through her hair, messing it up. She still looked beautiful. Then she began to pace.  
“That you fucking cheated on me, malákas!” she shouted. “That you are fucking that misthios. The one that _I_ invited to these islands. The one that was here to _help me_ , not to–”  
She growled, then turned away from him. Her shoulders were shaking. Was she crying? Thaletas took a step forward and reached out for her.  
“Don’t you dare touch me!” she snarled.   
He stepped back, away from her. One step, two, three. His back touched the wall again and he felt his legs go weak, giving up on holding him. He slid down the wall until he sat, his legs angled towards his body, his arms limp at his sides. His beaker lay next to him tipped over. The wine had spilled completely, searching its way through the gravel, seeping away into the ground, only leaving a red stain behind.  
“I fucked it up,” he whispered. He didn’t even know if she could hear him, but she seemed to be frozen in place. Maybe she did. “I fucked everything up. Me and you, us. Him. Everything.”  
Something warm found its way onto his face, running over his cheeks and down to his chin. Tears. They burned.  
“You did,” Kyra said and sat down next to him, careful not to sit in the wine. She took his hand into hers and rubbed her thumb over his knuckles.  
The touch hurt and was soothing at the same time. Why didn’t she hit him? He deserved it.  
“I don’t want to lose you, Thaletas,” Kyra whispered. She cupped his face and turned it towards her. Her face looked soft, her expression mild. Her lips tasted salty. She had cried. She still cried.  
“Will you take him to Sparta?” she asked, her voice cracking.  
Thaletas shook his head. Slowly, feeling weak.  
“It’s over,” he said. It was a fact. The words left his lips, lingered in the air in front of him, then disappeared, leaving nothing but emptiness behind.  
Kyra stroked his head, ran her fingers gently through his hair. He didn’t deserve that gentle touch, he thought.  
“I don’t want to lose you,” she repeated. “But I don’t know if I can forgive you. Not after this betrayal, not after all your lies. I asked, Thaletas, more than once, and you lied to me. I don’t know if I will ever trust you again.”  
Once again her lips met his. Soft, short, they didn’t linger this time. Was this it? The final goodbye?  
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he heard his own voice, distant. The words were true. He had never wanted to hurt her.  
Something heavy settled on his shoulder. Her head. He leaned his own against it. Once again Kyra took his hand, their fingers folded together. They fit neatly. That was how it should be. How it always should have been. He had ruined it, and yet she was still at his side, still holding his hand.  
“What do we do now?” he asked. Somehow the sadness in him seemed to have disappeared, leaving nothing behind – not a single feeling, just lingering emptiness. Desolation took its place, even as the clouds in his head began to lift – not much, just a little bit, opening a tunnel to look through. To move forward into. Not left, not right. Just forward. Functioning, fulfilling his duty. He was a general now. He had to function.  
“I don’t want to lose you.”  
There they were again, Kyra’s words. Her voice was different… not much, just a tiny bit; just enough for Thaletas to notice.  
“Do you want me to stay?” he asked. Even his voice sounded empty.  
Kyra’s hand left his. Her head moved away first, then the warmth of her body, too. She leaned forward, then stood up, her back turned to him.   
He’d ruined it. Lost her.  
Kyra sighed, then turned. She looked at him – no, she looked into him. Into his eyes, searching for something. Her gaze was intense and it seemed that she had found it, his soul, searching for an answer to his question.  
She closed her eyes and took one deep breath. A second. A third. Finally, she opened them again. Looked at him. No trace of sadness left, her face controlled. The face of a leader, her true feelings hidden behind a mask.  
“I do,” she said. She reached her hand out for him to take. “I need you by my side. The people are free but we have only won the fight. We have to bring peace to these islands. Help the people rebuild what was lost. It won’t be easy. They followed me to fight but will they follow me now? I need you, Thaletas.” Her voice was stern, with no emotion in it. Ready to do what needed to be done.   
He knew she was right. The peace was fragile, new and tentative. She could do it alone, he knew she could, but he could make it easier for her. He had his men who trusted him, the people on the islands knew him, and he knew the islands. Would Sparta allow him to stay if he asked? He had been made a general, that was his reward. Was asking to stay too much? Maybe if he made a proposal, a suggestion. A strategic decision. They might let him stay, if it was logical to do so. Thaletas knew Sparta well enough to be sure they’d say yes, if he asked in the right way.  
He looked at Kyra. Her hand was still held out in his direction, waiting for his decision to be made.  
Thaletas closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and followed Kyra’s example. He took her hand, stood up, looked her in the eyes. The corners of her mouth twitched. A smile, faint and fragile, but it was there.  
“You’re right,” he said. His voice was firm. It sounded like him, like the general he was, even if he didn’t feel like it. “We have to rebuild these islands. Together.”  
Kyra nodded. “Together,” she repeated and stepped to his side.  
She hooked in with him, her arm pressed to his, her other hand touching his upper arm. He could feel her gaze on him. It felt warm. He felt her smile, shy but hopeful.  
“We will work this out,” she whispered.   
He frowned. What did she mean?  
Kyra seemed to sense his confusion, his unspoken question. She understood him, she always had. She caressed his cheek, kissed his lips.  
“Us,” she said. “We will get over this. Make it work. Forget what happened.”  
Forget.  
Forget what happened.  
Forget Alexios.  
Thaletas took another deep breath. It was right, Kyra was right.  
“Let’s forget,” he said. It hurt, stung in his heart, but not for long. Like an arrowhead pulled from a wound. Short, sharp, and soon gone, leaving nothing behind but a chance for the wound to heal.  
They walked back to the celebration, together. Kyra by his side, her arm hooked through his. They held their heads high, their backs straight. They were smiling. After all, this was a celebration. They had won the islands; they were expected to smile.  
People came to them, talked to them. Thaletas heard their voices, heard his own voice in reply. They exchanged cordialities, words that meant something to them but nothing to him. Not today, at least. Maybe tomorrow.  
Time passed and the number of people approaching them decreased. Now they barely came, only for a toast now and them. They left them to their private space; left them to celebrate together.   
The couple that won the islands. The happy couple. Happy.   
He tried to smile, thinking of that word. It almost worked.  
“There you are.” A familiar voice, a familiar face. Alexios. “You look happy.”  
They did. They looked happy. Alexios didn’t. He smiled, yes, his mouth did but his eyes didn’t. They were dark, sad, mirroring what Thaletas felt.  
He knew he had to say something, he knew he was supposed to; but what?  
“I said goodbye to the past, with your help,” Kyra said. Her voice sounded normal, strong, but soft. Thaletas turned his head, looked at her face. She tried to look happy, confident, as though she meant the words she said, but there was something else. Another emotion fighting to come to the surface. Hurt, anger, pain. A mix of all those. Thaletas could see it, but he hoped nobody else did.   
“Now we welcome what the Fates will bring,” she continued.   
Fates. They’d talked at the beach about the Fates. The word brought back the pain. He could feel it creeping up his neck, up to his ears, and seeping into his skin.   
No, he wouldn't allow it to take over again. He had to do something, say something. Support Kyra. Show that they were a unit, he and she. That they belonged together. That it was the way it was meant to be.  
“Alexios, about what I said at the beach…” he began. His voice sounded confident, his pose emphasized it. Hands stemmed to his hips, his back straight. He took up as much space as he could.   
Kyra looked at him, he could feel it. Thankful that he had said something, he was sure, but afraid about what he might say next. He was afraid, too. What was he going to say? He didn’t know. His voice was acting on its own.  
It was Alexios who saved him from saying something stupid, something he would certainly regret.  
The mercenary sighed and interrupted the words flowing out of his mouth.  
“Thaletas,” he said, and the way he said his name hurt. Sad, broken, definitely not happy. Alexios’ voice made Thaletas’ hands move. Away from his hips to his back, one hand grasping the wrist of the other, holding tight. Prepared for whatever Alexios was about to say. “Maybe now is not the best time…”  
Alexios glanced at Kyra, and he was right. There were things that shouldn’t be said. Not here, not now. It could only destroy even more, maybe break them all.  
“Relax. I’m glad you two had your fun,” Kyra said, stopping Alexios from saying whatever else he wanted to say to them. She said it confidently, almost like she meant it; but her face said something different. She didn’t look at Alexios, not even for a second.   
Her words, the way she said them, allowed Thaletas to smile. No, to grin. An attack to defend, a strategy he could understand. Capturing the situation, taking it into her control. Her usual strategy, and supposedly the reason she became the leader of the rebellion. It was what had impressed him the minute he’d met her, which made him feel _something_ for her. The reason he’d loved her.   
No, he corrected himself: the reason he still loved her. He did. He just had to remember it, had to get that feeling back into his heart.   
Thaletas straightened again, his hands wandering back to his hips. They would manage to succeed, to get past this, and be happy again.  
“You taught him a thing or two,” Kyra continued. Implying that she knew, that she always had known. Implying that they were happy and still getting physical. That they have always been and not that it had stopped the day Thaletas had taken Alexios to the ruins. That they had been arguing nearly every single day since then.  
Alexios’ shoulders dropped; slightly, but Thaletas noticed. He wanted to say something to comfort him, wanted to take him into his arms. He couldn’t stand seeing him like that.  
Instead, he supported Kyra, and told Alexios their decision. He would understand it, wouldn’t he? That it was the right choice. A strategic one. That they did what was expected of them. That the words at the beach were what they were: Dreams. Foolish dreams that would never come true.  
“Kyra and I have decided I am going to stay here, _with her_ ,” he said. Emphasizing it was a decision both had made. Together. He saw Alexios’ muscles tense, his face become grim. He was angry, but still Thaletas couldn’t stop saying what he had started. “And help rebuild what was lost in the rebellion.”  
He said it confidently, using his hands to emphasize the words. They were true. That was what they had agreed on. It was the only logical thing to do. Alexios had to understand that; yet he just looked angry.  
“You have?” he asked. There was surprise in his voice, mixed with the anger. Not towards Kyra, towards him. Thaletas deserved it, he knew that.   
“Yes, we _have_!” Kyra said, leaving no room for anyone to question their decision, ending any debate before it began.  
Thaletas saw Alexios swallowing, eyes closed, taking a deep breath. He wanted to reach out to him. Wanted to say that he was sorry, but he wouldn’t.  
“Well,” Alexios began, then paused as though he was searching for the right words. Thaletas could see his hurt. “I’m glad you two are together. And…” He hesitated again. His words felt like venom to Thaletas. Hurt him even more than his words at the beach when he’d turned him down. Alexios wasn’t glad for them, not even a little bit.  
“Happy.” The anger and venom in Alexios’ voice seemed suddenly to have disappeared, and what was left hurt Thaletas even more. He’d wanted him to get angry, wanted him to scream at him, to hit him. He could deal with that, but the sadness and pain in Alexios’ eyes, which looked everywhere except at him, was too much. “May Artemis and Apollo guide you as you govern your islands.”  
Words. Empty words. A phrase. Something strangers said to each other and maybe they were strangers. Maybe they had always been.  
Alexios turned around, walked away from them, disappearing into the darkness. He didn’t look back, not even once.  
Thaletas closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He had to fight the tears, he couldn’t let them win. He was a general, a Spartan general. He wasn’t allowed to cry. A deep breath and another. Three, four, five. He calmed, the tears lost the fight. Thaletas opened his eyes and looked into Kyra’s face. He smiled and she nodded. They were together. They were happy. He would feel it soon.  
They stayed at the symposium; for how long, he didn’t know. Faces came, faces went. Words were exchanged. Words, nods, laughter. Real? Fake? Did it matter?  
“Pull yourself together,” Kyra hissed. She was angry at him again. What had he done wrong? He talked to the people, he smiled, he stayed. He was doing everything she wanted him to do, and still, it wasn’t enough.  
“That’s what you think of me?” Kyra asked. She shouted, muted, not loud enough for others to hear but he knew she was shouting. Inside. At him. “I’m trying to forgive you. Forgive what you’ve done to me. This is how you thank me?”  
He got angry. They argued. He felt the heat rising to his face. He wanted to go. It didn’t matter where as long it was away from here. From this tavern, these islands, maybe this world. People came and turned away. They saw that they were arguing. They did nothing to stop it.  
The voices around them fell silent. A man spoke. Barnabas. They stopped arguing. They turned. Alexios was there. He climbed onto a table. A fake smile on his face, no sign of the pain and anger he’d shown before.  
Thaletas gripped his beaker of wine more tightly. When had it found its way into his hands? He didn’t know and it didn’t matter.  
Alexios talked. Gave a speech. No. It wasn’t a speech. Those were orders. A warning not to fail the upcoming tasks. He was a Spartan, like him.   
Then it was over. Barnabas talked again. A toast. To what? Thaletas didn’t feel like that. He felt like drinking, forgetting. So he drank. Drank before anyone else did. He didn’t care and he didn’t stop. He downed it completely, the whole beaker. The wine was sweet but to him, it tasted bitter. He wouldn’t mind if it was poisoned, as long as it took the pain away.  
He swallowed the last drop and opened his eyes again.   
He was gone. Alexios was gone.   
Thaletas walked to a table nearby and put the beaker down. Too fast, too strong. An amphora fell over. He didn’t care.  
“Pull yourself together,” Kyra said again, scolding him in front of everyone.   
He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes. Counted. One, two, three. He didn’t want to shout. Six, seven. His pulse calmed. Not much, but enough for him not to lose his temper. Nine, ten. He opened his eyes again and turned to face Kyra.  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He turned again and left. Left her standing alone. He walked away, from the tavern, from the people. The cheering and laughter. He followed stairs, jumped to the top of them, getting faster until he ran. Stone turned to gravel and then to wood. Water touched his feet.   
He looked up. A ship. Alexios’ ship. How did he get here? Why did he get here? His feet began moving again, brought him closer to the ship. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t stop. He jumped. Landed on the deck. Someone came to him, shouted at him. He didn’t listen. He looked around and saw nothing. There, a trapdoor. He opened it, still ignoring the man. A ladder led down and he followed it, but nothing. No one was there. He returned to the deck. The man had a sword and it was pointed at him. Thaletas mumbled something. He didn’t know what and he didn’t care. He left the ship, running again.  
Wood turned to gravel and then to stone. Stairs led him back to where he came from. His heart was racing, his face felt hot. He stopped, looked around. No one was there. Then he approached a wall.   
The noise, when his hand hit it, was dull. He rested his head against the rough rendering. He punched again. And again. The heat disappeared and with it the anger. He closed his eyes but this time the tears had won. They burned hot on his skin as they made their way to his chin before dropping to the ground.*  
Something warm found its way to his neck. A hand. Soft and gentle. Steadying him until he stopped punching. He turned around and wrapped his arms around Kyra. She held him close. Stroked his hair. Waited.   
Eventually, he stopped shaking, the tears dried.  
“I’m sorry,” he rasped.  
She kissed his cheek. Soft. Wet. His skin or her lips, he didn’t know.  
“We’ll make it work.” Her voice broke. “I don’t know how, but we will.”  
“We will,” he repeated. His voice was barely a whisper. He could feel her chin resting on his shoulder. Heavy. Giving support, taking support. He held her tight and she held him back.  
Then he opened his eyes. He was facing the water, it was churning. The light of the moon danced on the waves and made Delos barely visible in the distance.   
One spot caught his eye. Far away, high above the water. Light. A fire. Someone was at the ruins. Was it–? No, he shouldn’t think of it. Shouldn’t think of him. Yet still he couldn’t stop looking at the ruins. The fire sought his attention. Called him as it called moths. He wanted to follow. Wanted to get close to the flames. Get burned.  
Instead, he closed his eyes again and took a step back. Released Kyra from the embrace and cupped her face. Then he leaned forward. Lips pressed to lips. Hard, not moving. Then softening. Moving, parting. Tongues finding each other; but the thoughts didn’t stop, the fire still caught his attention.  
“Come with me,” Kyra whispered. She took his hand and he followed her. They went through the streets of Mykonos, he knew their goal. A house, small, Kyra’s. He’d spent many nights there.   
The door closed behind them. Arms wrapped around his body, lips met again. This time there was no fire, just darkness. He still followed her, let her take the lead. Armor was removed, clothes followed. In between, lips met, hands wandered over arms. Gentle, careful.   
Yet still, everything felt dull. Thaletas’ back touched the blankets he’d spent many nights on. The smell was familiar, calming. Kyra knelt over him. Her lips met his, left them again. Followed his jaw, down his neck, collarbone, chest. A trail of kisses. Soft and yet demanding. The lips continued to wander down. Kissed his hip bones, his loins. Steadily they approached their goal. Found it, kissed it. Warmth wrapped around him. Soft, wet. Thaletas laid his head back and closed his eyes. It felt good. It stopped his thoughts from returning to _him_. To his mouth, doing exactly the same. Up there, at the ruins, where the fire burned.  
He opened his eyes again. The face changed, became hers again. He reached for it, pulled her up until they were face to face. They kissed. His eyes closed again. No beard tickled him, there was just soft skin touching his. Once again warmth wrapped around him, took him completely. The kissing stopped and Kyra leaned back. She had control, he followed her lead. He felt her warmth, heard her breath, followed her rhythm.  
Something wet hit his belly. A drop, then another. Tears. She was crying. He was too.  
The rhythm got faster, his breath shorter. His hands grabbed her hips, he took control. His own hips moved towards hers, fast, forceful. Then his thoughts vanished and sweet release was the only thing he felt.   
Warm breath left his mouth. A sound. A word? He didn’t know. It didn’t matter. All that mattered to him was that his muscles finally relaxed and that the emptiness once again filled his body.   
Kyra laid down next to him. Her back turned to him. They didn’t touch. He tried to move closer but she moved away. No word was said, no kiss was given. The only things they shared were the bed and the silence. Then his world turned black.

When the world turned bright again, Kyra was gone. The bed was cold.   
He stood up, his head aching. Maybe from the wine, maybe from the crying. Perhaps both. He grabbed his clothing but left the armor on the floor. There was no time to put it on, he had to hurry.  
Thaletas left the house. Walked, then ran. He followed the streets of Mykonos. Stone turned to gravel and then to wood. He stopped.   
This time there was no ship, just water.  
“Alexios,” Thaletas whispered, “I’m sorry.”

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Is this how it went? Did you ever pay attention to how Kyra and Thaletas behave while Alexios is giving his speech? Do you think they look happy?  
> I look forward to your opinions.
> 
> ____________
> 
> A thousand thanks to Jenn, the best beta reader on this planet. Without you, this story would never have become what it is now.  
> Please read the fics of [Jenn_Harper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenn_Harper), if you haven't already done so. She writes wonderful stories with an extraordinary love for historical details.


End file.
